I consider this broken.

Free will and destiny have collided in a blinding catastrophe,

And I just can't make sense of it anymore.

Is the past not just projection?

Real and imaginary numbers trade places while I sleep.

Rational and irrational blackbirds laugh at me.

It would have to be characterized as immoral.

We exist in a tension loop,
We can't decide if we are deciding to suffer
We don't know when to rejoice.

I don't see myself as the driver,
But that doesn't matter.

I don't matter.

I guess I'll just dissolve.